I was particularly saddened to hear of the death of Joyce Wilson in
May this year. She had been a teacher, an employer, a colleague and a
friend to me for over 45 years.

Joyce Wilson was a founding member of the Health Information
Management Association of Australia (HIMAA). She undertook the six
months training course for medical record personnel conducted by Sara
McKinney (from the USA) in 1955. After the first full time three-year
course started at Royal Prince Alfred Hospital, Sydney, in 1956, Joyce
lectured to students in medical terminology, disease classification and
coding using the Standard Nomenclature of Diseases and Operations
(SNDO). She was a strong believer in the need to code accurately and
encouraged her students to enjoy the process. As students, at the
beginning we were not so sure about 'enjoying coding' but by
the time we had completed the course many of us felt the same as
'Miss Wilson'. In those days she was 'Miss Wilson'
and remained so to me for many years. She was highly respected by all
and encouraged her students and young graduates to believe in their
chosen profession. As a student I had a most enjoyable six weeks with
Joyce as my supervisor at the Royal Alexandra Hospital for Children
(RAHC) Sydney and was pleased to be offered a position as her assistant
at the end of my training. I subsequently worked with her at RAHC for
three years. Joyce was a member of the External Education Committee for
the NSW Training School for Medical Record Librarians for many years and
extremely active in the professional association. A highlight of her
involvement was as a member of the organising committee of the Sixth
International Congress on Medical Records held in Sydney in 1972. Joyce
was in charge of the social arrangements and did a grand job organising
the cocktail parties and banquet. She also hosted a number of
international visitors, showing them Sydney and entertaining them before
and after the Congress.

Joyce remained at RAHC, her beloved 'Children's
Hospital', until her retirement. From this time we met infrequently
as I was still working, but we were able talk on the telephone and meet
when possible, more so in recent years. Joyce was a unique individual
who enjoyed life and I feel blessed to have been able to call her my
friend.

I would like to share with you some excerpts from her nephew's
eulogy, which he presented at her funeral:

I'd like to touch upon her twilight years. It was my privilege
to know Joyce well in her last 15 years, when she often reflected back
on her life. My grandfather Thomas once said to Mum, 'There is not
much fun in getting old, dear; nothing to look forward to, only
memories' Well, Joycie's memories were quite revealing. Here
are some which come to mind.

Joyce would never own up to her real age. It was only on Tuesday
when Flora O'Dea, a friend for more that 60 years, discovered
Joyce's true age from the death notice in the SMH [Sydney Morning
Herald]. For decades, including that one year they travelled together,
Joyce always told Flora that she was two years younger than Flora. She
was actually eight years older! It was only when Joyce turned 95 and was
feted by the hostel management with a birthday cake that she seemed to
decide that she could now not only admit her real age but also brag
about it! After all, as she frequently told us, no one else in the
family has yet to reach such an advanced age as she!

When she turned 97 almost three weeks ago, I asked her what she
wanted for her birthday. 'Champagne, of course!' was her
reply. She always said it was her favourite drink, that it went with
everything from soup to nuts. So champagne she got.

Some time ago I asked Joyce why she had never married. Her
immediate answer was that she had never found anyone good enough except
for one man, and he wasn't available. But she assured us that,
although she may have been a Miss, she hadn't missed much. She
added that she had had a good life and done what she wanted to do.
Joycie said she had never wanted to have children of her own. Too much
pain! She couldn't understand why women, after having had one
child, would back up to have another. But she loved her nieces and
nephews dearly, as well as their children, and repeatedly told us that
her family was the most important thing in her life. She loved us all in
her own way and lit up when we visited or called her.

Joyce dressed well, was rather the grand dame, and was confident
about taste. She did enjoy shopping, and the only place for her to shop
was David Jones. Two years ago, on one of the last occasions I took her
shopping for clothes, I wheeled her in to the women's section at
David Jones in Chatswood. Fronting up to the nearest desk, Joyce
summoned the sales clerk with the query, 'How do you get service
around here?' She then proceeded to describe what sort of dress she
wanted. Within minutes several staff were scurrying to fetch selections
for her. Once presented with the dresses, Joyce refused to go to a
dressing room. She stood up from her wheelchair, removed the clothes she
was wearing, and standing rather unsteadily in her slip in the middle of
David Jones, proceeded to try on the three dresses which had caught her
fancy. Having made her choice, she dressed again and then demanded a
senior's discount.

Joyce was self-sufficient and enjoyed her own company. She had a
few select friends of long-standing and didn't seek to make new
friends. She kept most people at arm's length and let only a few
people get close. If she was unhappy with a situation or person, she
wouldn't hesitate to let you know. She was not always the most
diplomatic of people, but she was a firm and loyal friend to those she
loved.

We are all going to miss Joycie. Each of us will cherish our
memories of her.